


Unrequited

by lesbianneptune



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: Angstober 2015, F/F, like this is maybe the most agonising thing i've ever written, major angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 07:33:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6461419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianneptune/pseuds/lesbianneptune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michiru had always dreamed of the life she and Haruka would have together.<br/>Yet there she was, in love with someone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unrequited

Michiru had long-dreamed of their future life together, allowing herself the comfort of imagination for the first time since she was a child. Inbetween the horrors of her nightmares came the soft pattering footsteps of lanky blonde-haired children, the collective laughter of a family joined not only by name but by love and affection - a rare and golden breed of happiness that the Kaioh line had remained unblessed by for centuries.

Still, she would doubt, as a teenage girl burdened heavily by the weight of her role in a brand new life would, anticipating the next day, week, month to potentially be their last. She did not believe in concepts such as lights at the end of dark tunnels (not when the tunnels were endless), but when Haruka smiled, laughed – and oh, did she laugh with all her heart when she truly let go, illuminated by the sun, the tears in her eyes sparkling – Michiru could forget reality just for a moment. She would allow herself then, to think of what might come after the battles, after the war, after the bloodshed.

Haruka shared in her dream, but she frolicked where Michiru would only tiptoe. They were engaged by nineteen, a hapless ordeal in which Michiru’s beloved had attempted to arrange the perfect evening, only for the waiter to have slipped the ring into the wrong meal, the restaurant to have refused her card and the theatre to have been fully booked. They had ended up at the ocean, Haruka increasingly agitated, Michiru’s soothing words meaning very little in the face of her guilt. She had spat the words out then, softening with every memory she recounted and every compliment she stammered through, her eyes fixed on the ground, her hands fisted tightly in her pockets.

Michiru had cried.

But as with all dreams people like Michiru partook in, there was only so long that life would allow to indulge in sweet fantasies. It came slowly at first; the firm and constant rejection of Haruka by Michiru’s parents, the way she tensed whenever she felt she were being judged or criticised (and, in the circles the Kaiohs ran in, this was more than often), the avoidance of dinner parties and family events with a myriad of false symptoms. She loved Michiru, of course, but the charade increasingly began to crack with each blow to her pride, each attempt to conform to a standard set too high for mere mortals failing miserably.

The problem with Haruka had never been that she did not love Michiru. It had been that she did not love herself.

As she crumbled, she withdrew more and more, convinced of her own inferiority. Michiru could not silence the harsh words Haruka fired at herself, the never-ending insults that drove them further and further apart, the space inbetween filled with resent not for each other, but for themselves.

It was a sunny day in April when Haruka finally ended it, the tears sparkling in her eyes as she left.

And it was a sunny day in April when Michiru observed her dream come true for another.

Michiru looked over to the playpark where the familiar laugh came, joined by the soft, high voices of young children, no older than six or seven, Michiru estimated. She’d been aware of Haruka’s remarriage, thanks to Usagi’s enthusiastic announcement followed by Rei’s angry hushing, but the years following had separated even she and Rei, until her sole company came in the form of a once-monthly visit by Setsuna and Hotaru, in which all discussion of Haruka, or Michiru’s personal life at all, was markedly avoided. There was plenty to discuss, after all. Michiru had rapidly become one of Japan’s most influential women, between her painting and musical talents, both of which took her all over the world, meeting the likes of people others could only imagine, the fantastic life of a celebrity and heiress who never, ever could have the time for such base things as friends and family.

“Haruka! One of you is going to get hurt!”

The playful shout came from nearby and Michiru instantly recognised the woman currently making her way into the park. She had researched her, thoroughly, after Usagi had informed her of Haruka’s wedding, and had come to the bitter conclusion that she was indeed, a much better match for her than Michiru ever could have been. Haruka pulled one of the children up onto her back and scrambled towards her wife, completely disregarding the state of her clothing as she made her way through the muddy grass.

“Horsey! Papa is a horsey!” the child giggled as she clung on. Haruka neighed and snorted, completely in her element.

“Papa is going to hurt her knees even more if she carries on like that!” the woman mock-scolded, plucking the child from her wife and beginning to spit-wash the girl’s face.

“Yeah, actually, I think horsey needs a break for some hay. And maybe a hot chocolate,” Haruka added with some afterthought, grinning as she stood up.

“If you can make it all the way home without injuring your knees, I promise. With extra marshmallows.”

“I love y-”

Michiru turned away sharply, closing her eyes and blocking out the scene. Since she had first seen Haruka she had allowed herself to wish for a future that had never truly been intended for her. The memories of Haruka she still allowed herself to treasure – the peacefulness of her features as she dozed in the morning sun, the blush on her cheeks as she confided her innermost feelings, the gentleness in her warm eyes as she spoke of her affections – hit her all at once, and Michiru could not help but feel the same swell of emotion for her ex-girlfriend as she always had.

Yet there she was, in love with someone else.


End file.
